


Welcome to Wake and Bake

by neverendingnabriel



Category: Half Life Trilogy - Sally Green
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Bakery, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Foster home, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, abusive celia, awkward nathan, bestfriend annalise, fluff to come I promise, homeless nathan, mentioned Byrn family, nabriel - Freeform, nabriel being domestic, poet gabriel, runaway nathan, sassy bad ass rose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-29 14:38:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6380212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverendingnabriel/pseuds/neverendingnabriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan really needs a job. And maybe somewhere to live. Running away from his horrible foster home was difficult, but necessary. When his last resort, a rundown bakery with a "help wanted" sign in the window, offers him a place to stay and a salary, how can he turn them down?</p><p>Answer: he can't.</p><p>Along the way he meets a few new friends and an undeniably flirtatious French man who just might be the love of his life.</p><p>WARNING: this story contains non-detailed depictions of child abuse so please be careful when you read if that may be a trigger for you!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I will try and update as much as I can because I know how frustrating it is when works are abandoned!! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> **there is no child abuse described in this chapter but I will reinstate the warning when they apply in future chapters**

Having a criminal record makes it really fucking difficult to get a job--like really fucking difficult. Maybe vandalizing cars and breaking into apartments wasn’t such a great idea, even during my wild, adolescent years. I’m not saying I regret anything. I just wish that people in the employment world could overlook those little details…and maybe also the fact that I never even graduated from school. Apparently, it’s the little things that count in the real world. 

Nobody is accepting my resume (if you could even call the empty paper that) and it’s really starting to get to me. I need a goddamn job. I mean it’s not like I have tons of money to just throw around! In fact, I don’t have any money. Zip. Zero. Nada. When Gran died she didn’t leave any money behind, and if she did, she definitely wouldn’t have left it for me…not even a dime.

So here I am, out-and-about on the Welsh side streets, pushing my empty resume into any hands I can find and trying to look presentable in my unwashed clothing and my ratty backpack with all of my possessions inside. I’m pretty much fucked. I lost contact with Debs and Arran after Gran died a long time ago. Jessica wouldn’t let me stay with them since she detests me—sent me into foster care instead. I’ve been living on the streets since I ran away from my foster home a year ago. I’m not particularly friendly, so any hope of someone helping me out is basically nonexistent. 

My last resort is towering in front of me, intimidating like no bakery ever should be. If this place rejects me, well I’m more than just fucked—I’m dead. Winter is creeping up and winding its way through the November air, leaving me out on the streets with nothing but a threadbare coat and my signature decomposing black boots. I really need this goddamn job. 

I push the door open, straighten my spine, and hold my filthy chin up high. I can do this I can do this. The warmth of the room engulfs me as soon as I step through the little glass door. The tiny chime of a bell can be heard and the light murmur of quiet conversation is like muffled background music. It smells like heaven. Brown leather love seats and wool blankets are tucked into the softly lit corners and tiny, round glass tables fill the empty space between. The light is so soft and the air smells like sugar and cinnamon and for a moment I want to close my eyes and just breathe. I don’t do that of course. I’m on a mission. I walk up (awkwardly) to the counter in the back, which has freshly baked goods laying in neat little rows on display. There is a girl behind the counter, around my age, with curly hair the color of brown sugar and dark eyes that look sharp and all knowing. Shit. I can’t do this. 

“Welcome to Wake and Bake, how may I help you?” her voice is smooth yet insistent. She is not to be messed with. I open my mouth to speak but find it suddenly very difficult to form a coherent sentence. “Are you going to order something or just stand there with your mouth open?” The silence continues. I try to cough. “Look kid, I have other customers to tend to, so just get on with it.” She starts tapping her nails along the counter. They’re a deep scarlet color. 

“I’m uh here to…I want to apply for a job?” I manage to speak, which is impressive in my opinion. “You have a ‘help wanted’ sign in the uh window so…” I just stand there while she stares at me (more like glares). 

“Oh, okay. Follow me back here.” She gestures with her hand to the curtain behind the counter and disappears past it. I quickly hop around the counter and follow through the gauzy fabric. I come face to face with a little hallway, painted robin-egg-blue, that does not match the rest of the bakery at all. On the hallway walls, pictures of various cakes and confectionary treats hang in cherry wood frames. At the end of the hallway is a little door. 

The girl—Rose as she introduces herself—knocks lightly on the door three times in a row, waiting for a response on the other side of the wood. Whoever is in there must respond, because Rose opens the door slowly, almost cautiously, until I can see the room inside. It’s all dark wood and it smells overwhelmingly like incense and freshly baked bread. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust from the harsh hallway light to the dimly lit room in front of me, but eventually I can make out a woman sitting behind a desk. Her skin is so pale it’s almost translucent and her hair is like powdered sugar. She’s older, that much is obvious, and she seems like some sort of all-knowing mentor who whispers vague life lessons to you. 

I walk into the room hesitantly, clutching the strap on my backpack so tightly that my knuckles start to go numb. I can’t do this. what was I thinking? The woman gestures to a big leather chair in front of her as she turns to face me. Rose closes the door. I feel trapped. The woman looks at me for a long time. I’m not sure if it’s been minutes or seconds but I can’t keep eye contact for any longer so I look down at my boots. 

“Hello, I’m Mercury, the owner of this little shop. What’s your name young man?” Her voice is low and soothing and I can tell that she’s wise. I look up at her then, trying to sit up straight and look presentable. I can’t afford to fuck this up. 

“My name’s uh Nathan. Nathan Byrn. I’m here to apply for a job.” I try to steady my voice. I haven’t been this nervous in a long time. She looks at me for a moment longer as if assessing me. I suddenly feel very embarrassed by my appearance: overgrown hair, dirt caked under my fingernails, ratty clothing, and probably a horrible smell following me around. She smiles at me. 

“Well Nathan, do you have a resume? Any form of identification?” I place the (practically empty) paper on the table and slide it across the wood into her waiting hands. She glances at it briefly, skimming the paper with a slight frown. I can feel my heart beating against my ribs painfully. Her head snaps up when she’s finished and her eyes meet mine. I see something in them that I just can’t place. It isn’t pity…concern maybe? I’m not used to concern. I don’t know how to handle it. Disgust I can handle, anger I can handle. I wait quietly for her to speak. 

After another minute of silence, she speaks again, “Nathan, your resume is questionable at best, but I can see when someone’s in need of a helping hand. I can see that you don’t have an address listed on here, which worries me a bit.” Oh Shit. She’s going to turn me down. Please let this work. Please. “I will let you work here under one condition.” My head snaps up at that. “I can’t let you come into work in dirty clothes and without washing. It isn’t hygienic as you understand and I cannot allow that in my bakery. So… I’m presenting you with a very generous offer. I don’t want to turn you away, I want to help you get back on your feet.” I look at her, waiting for the catch. “I own the apartments above the shop, and I am willing to let you live in one of them while you work here. Part of your salary would be going towards rent, but not all of it seeing as that wouldn’t be helpful in the long run. I’m running under the assumption you are applying to work here full time…am I correct?” I nod my head quickly. I can’t believe this offer. There has to be something else she wants. This seems too good to be true. 

“There are three apartments above the shop. They aren’t large, but I doubt you would turn something down because of mere size. Rose occupies one of them, and nice young lad lives in another. Yours is the smallest of the three, but I happen to like it the best.” A small smile appears on her lips and she looks at me kindly. “It has the most charm, you know? Why don’t I have Rose give you a quick tour, get you settled. I’ll take care of the counter.” She rises from her seat and walks quickly out the door, calling for Rose as she walks. I follow hurriedly behind her, thoughts reeling in my head. Holy shit. I got a job! I got more than a job… I got an apartment! I can’t believe my luck. 

Mercury hands me off to Rose as she explains the situation. I barely register what’s going on as Rose leads me up a flight of stairs around the side of the bakery. She’s talking to me, although I’m not sure what exactly she’s saying. Finally, I tune back into hear her say, “…but you’ll really like it here anyway. I like to think I’m a pretty fantastic next-door neighbor, and I’m sure you’ll love Gabriel. Who am I kidding, everyone loves Gabriel.” She opens a door at the top of the stairs that leads into a dimly lit little hallway with cream walls. There are three wooden doors, and Rose stops at the one in the middle. She pulls out a small key and unlocks the door before dropping the key into my hand. “Here you are! I’m in the one to your right,” she points to one of the other doors, “so if you need anything just knock. Oh! And your shift starts at 7:30 am. I’ll show you the ropes tomorrow when you start. We get off at about 5 when Annalise takes over.” She finally stops talking and gives me a welcoming smile. I look at her nervously, overwhelmed with all the information. 

“Thanks,” I fiddle with the key in my hands, feeling the weight of it in my palm. She gives me a full-body glance then, and I can see her eye catching on my dirty clothes. 

“Do you have something else to wear while you wash those clothes?” She reaches her hand out and tugs at the fraying fabric lightly. “I’m sure Gabriel could lend you something to sleep in while you wash those.” I take a small step back, looking down at myself with a frown. I only had one spare change of clothes in my bag and those were filthy too. It’s not like I was really able to wash them very often due to my complete lack of a house or money. 

“Um…I’m fine,” They’ve done enough for me already. I don’t need to borrow some guy’s clothes. She looks at me with an assessing glare. I can tell that she won’t take no for an answer no matter how much I try and convince her. “I guess uh. A shirt might be nice.” Her smile is bright and instantaneous. She pushes me inside my apartment while she heads next door. I can hear her knocking loudly but I tune it out as I take in my new apartment. Mercury wasn’t kidding when she said it was small, but it’s better than anything I could’ve asked for really. The walls are covered in antiquated peach wallpaper that is peeling at the corners and the floors are dusted hard wood. The kitchen is practically nonexistent, just a tiny little alcove with kitchen appliances and a counter. There’s a small white couch that looks like it came from the 1800s and small table with a television that probably came from the 70s. The decorations are sparse, but it already feels homely. I can hear Rose speaking to someone out in the hall but it fades slowly as I move to look at the tiny tiled bathroom and cozy little bedroom. The bed is a welcoming sight to see, and I have to hold myself back from laying down right then. 

As I’m walking back out to rejoin Rose and (who I assume to be) Gabriel, I notice a door in the bedroom. I open the rusty handle to find a small balcony with white handrails and an empty pot filled with soil. I breathe a sigh of relief. No matter how long I’ve lived on the streets, I still love the outdoors. I’m glad that I’ll have a little place to get away from everything and just breathe the fresh air. 

I pass back through the tiny living room and out the front door, only to be met with Rose and Gabriel (??) in a heated discussion about something I couldn't pick up. When they realize that I'm standing here they turn to me and cease their conversation. I look from Rose to the man beside her. Holy mother of God this man is beautiful. His hair falls in long dark strands just above his shoulder and his facial structure is impeccable. I’ve never seen cheekbones so sharp. Everything about him screams handsome and I have to look away quickly so I don’t stare too openly. I can feel my face growing hot…I look disgusting right now. Rose starts speaking again, rambling on about how I need to borrow some clothes to sleep in and I look down at my boots. 

“Nathan this,” Rose is addressing me directly now so I look up at her, “is Gabriel, the sweetest French guy you will ever meet.” He nudges her playfully with his elbow and a smile tugs at his lips. Jesus Christ his lips are so red. Is he wearing lipstick? No he can’t be. “And this, Gabriel,” she continues, now gesturing at me, “is Nathan.” She has a mischievous grin in place and it makes me uneasy. She’s watching our exchange with a gleeful glint in her eye and it makes me wonder what she’s up to. I don’t have enough time to think about it though, because just then, Gabriel reaches out his hand to me. I look up to see a cherry-colored smirk and warm brown eyes (they look like they have hints of gold tumbling around in them). I look to his hand, which looks twice the size of mine, but that isn’t surprising since there is a considerable height difference between us. I reach out my hand to his hesitantly. It’s warm and smooth and he shakes it leisurely, giving my hand a light squeeze. 

His voice is deep and rumbling like crushed velvet and I’m barely registering what he says but I manage to focus on his accented voice as he says, “Pleased to meet you Nathan.”


	2. The Ever Generous Gabriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel and Nathan get acquainted (awkwardly) and Gabriel is a sweetheart (as always). Basically nabriel being domestic and cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is kind of short. It's more of a filler chapter just to get Nathan settled before the real plot starts taking place. I will try and update as much as I can!!

“Um it’s nice to meet you too.” Fucking hell. Could I be any more awkward? As soon as Gabriel releases my hand I stuff it quickly into the pocket of my jeans. I look down at my boots once again, uncomfortable with so much eye contact. 

“Well, now that you two are acquainted, why don’t you go pick out some clothes to borrow?” Rose still has that mischievous grin in place as she directs us quickly towards the door of Gabriel’s apartment. Gabriel pushes it open fast and mutters something under his breath in what I assume to be French. Now that we’re inside his apartment—alone—it is infinitely more uncomfortable. I mean I just met this guy. I’m not particularly good at small talk (or at being nice honestly). I look around at the apartment and see that the walls are painted a soft cream color. Poems and various art prints hang along the walls and the furniture is all dark wood. The living room looks unbelievably comfortable. The chairs and couch are draped with various heavy blankets and a soft fur rug lines the floor. I can’t help but imagine the extensive amount of time it must have taken for Gabriel to shop and decorate. It's all very...Gabriel.

“I’m going to go find something for you to wear. I will be right back. You can wait out here if you’d like. Make yourself at home.” Gabriel looks at me with an easy smile and turns away with a flourish of dark hair. Once he disappears into his room I take in more of my surroundings. I see a little crooked desk near the window that’s cluttered with old coffee mugs, books, candles, and crumpled paper. An old black typewriter sits in the center with a half finished poem sticking out from the top. So he’s handsome, French, AND a poet. Great. 

By the time I’m finished looking at all of his personal items (not in a creepy way, I swear) he saunters out of his bedroom door with some clothes in his hands. He sits down next to me on the couch and places a couple shirts and pants on my lap. “I hope all of this fits you. They’re some of my old clothes that are too small for me now, so if you like them you can keep them.” He looks at me with that award-winning smile and I instantly blush. Fuck. 

“Well um…thanks for all this.” Curse my inability to hold a casual conversation without the use of “um” or “uh”. I start to get up, gripping the clothes to my chest like my life depends on it. Gabriel rises too, following me to the front door. I turn to face him before I walk out. “So um…” I look at my boots again, “thanks again for the clothes…but um. Could you show me where the washing machine is? And maybe how to use it?” 

I hear a light laugh from him before he says, “oh yeah. I guess Rose didn’t show you. Also do you have like, shampoo or anything?” I shake my head slowly. I think my lack of personal hygiene products is pretty obvious judging by the horrible smell coming from me. I can practically feel him giving me a full-body glance and I start fidgeting. “That’s okay. You can just borrow mine until you get some. I have extras. Let me grab some things from the apartment and I’ll meet you in yours to show you how to use the washing machine.” I walk quickly next door as he disappears back into his bedroom. 

A few minutes later Gabriel comes stumbling in to my apartment (it still feels strange that I have my own apartment) carrying a large bag filled with various household items. I get up slowly from my very awkward position on the edge of the couch and close the door behind him. He seems a little out of breath and a light pink color is staining his cheeks. “Okay so I just grabbed whatever I thought I didn’t need anymore and brought it over here. I also brought some food because I’m not sure when you last ate, but I figured maybe if you get hungry in the middle of the night or something you might want a snack.” He smiles leisurely at me again and I can feel my face growing hot. 

“You really didn’t have to do that.” I start sifting through the bag and see numerous hygiene products and pastries and old movies. It’s a relief seeing the body wash and toothpaste…I haven’t had the luxury to stay clean for long periods of time but God do I fucking miss it. I can feel Gabriel’s gaze on my back so I stop looking through the bag, thinking maybe I’m being a little rude. “Thank you for all this.” I try to give him a smile but it probably looks like an uncomfortable grimace. I’m not used to gifts. 

“It’s not a problem,” he says with his accent tinted voice and a sparkle in his eye. Honestly, is this man even real? We stand there in awkward silence for a few more seconds before either of us makes an attempt to move. “Well I should probably help you with the washing machine now.” I nod my head quickly and follow him through a small door next to the bathroom. It’s dimly lit and a little dusty, and the washing machine and dryer look prehistoric. “Okay, so…” he then proceeds to show me the ropes of cleaning my clothes with the ancient machines. One of the buttons seems to be broken, but after a few calculating minutes Gabriel figures out how to work it. His melodious laugh makes an appearance when I spill some of the detergent on accident. 

By the time we exchange goodbyes I’m exhausted. I take a quick shower with the new products Gabriel brought me and change into some of his old clothes while mine finish drying. They fit perfectly…how fucking cliché. My eyes can barely stay open by the time I wander to the bedroom but I stay awake long enough to stash my most valuable items in a little secret place. In the bedside table there’s a little drawer at the bottom with a key, so I place my money (which is practically nonexistent) and some family photographs in there and lock it. Now that I know those items are safe, I drift into a deep sleep. Tomorrow I start working at the bakery. I better not fuck this up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the Half Life trilogy or any of the characters in it!!

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the characters in the Half Life trilogy!!


End file.
